


- longing for you to come home

by alexanger



Series: Bold and young [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Background Eliza/Alex, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Painplay, Restraints, mild bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8495032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanger/pseuds/alexanger
Summary: Alex, Thomas and Eliza have reached an agreement. Alex and Thomas work it out.





	

Alex draws a breath and there’s a flutter of pressure on his hand, just for a moment, a gentle reminder of solidity.

“You okay?” whispers a soft voice in his ear.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I’m just, you know, it’s weird, you being here.”

Eliza smiles at him, kisses his cheek, presses the call button for the elevator. “Someone needs to make sure you’re going to be responsible.”

“I have never, in my life,” says Alex, “been responsible, even a little.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. You clearly need me around.” Eliza him through the doors. The elevator is a tiny choking airless metal box and the buttons are little discs that swim hazy behind Alexander’s eyes, and Eliza hits one and he makes a soft noise before he realizes the blow didn’t land on him.

“Clearly,” Alex agrees, looking at her with anxiety plain on his face.

Shudder to movement, shudder to stillness. The doors open and the anxiety surges and for a moment Alex contemplates saying _I can’t do this_ and then Eliza tugs his hand like one would tug at a leash to guide a wilful dog and he resists for just a moment before he follows.

Perhaps following is really all he’s good for.

Jefferson is there, Jefferson is at the end of the hallway, standing in the doorway of his apartment. He’s leaning with his annoying gorgeous predatory smile against the jamb, all open mouth and hunger, and he parts his teeth to say, “hey, Hamilton.”

Fucker. So casual - so smooth - his voice a low rumble, distant thunder, rocks tumbling down a steep incline, the grind of brick on concrete, sharp and aching.

But there’s something else there, beneath the facade. Alex picks up on a break in the smoky growl and he sees, for a moment, uncertainty flashing in Jefferson’s eyes.

That feels unsafe - it’s like standing on the edge of a precipice and looking down into air that fades into nothing. It’s dizzying. It’s _wrong._

And then it’s gone, and there’s nothing but a ravenous snarl-turned-smile and the hunger in Jefferson’s deep brown eyes and the way he scans Alex’s body, up and down, in long passes, like he’s looking for the softest place to dig in his teeth and tear.

He lets Alex and Eliza into the apartment.

The unit is at once familiar and foreign, and Alex takes his time letting his eyes drink in the colours and shapes and forms that he should recognize at once. It’s hardly been any time at all but it’s all so new again, like he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Sit,” Jefferson orders, like one would order a dog, and Alex immediately drops into place on the sofa and looks up.

“Take it easy,” Eliza rebukes Jefferson, and the world spins.

“Don’t,” Alex whispers, soft enough that no one hears.

But Eliza catches the way his mouth moves and she bends over, touches his neck just over his jugular - over the pounding, the steady thunder of his blood - and asks, “what was that?”

“I don’t like seeing him - like, you know - out of - he’s bigger than me.”

Jefferson laughs and it’s pointed and cruel but Eliza understands, and she says, “okay, Alex. Okay. These are suggestions. I’m not giving him orders.”

The world tilts the right way again, and Alex says, “okay.”

“We made a list,” says Eliza, and this time she’s speaking to Jefferson and not to him, although her fingertips stay steady against his pulse. “Things that are okay, things that aren’t, things that are maybes - those ones, you really need to check consent -”

“I always check,” Jefferson says, indignant.

“I know. I mean you need to know what you’re looking for - it might push something we don’t want to push -”

“Let me see the lists.”

Eliza hands him papers and he shuffles through them, and Alex moves to stand. Jefferson snaps, “stay,” and just like that, Alex is in deep.

“Okay,” he says, airy, light.

“Do you need something?” Eliza asks.

“No,” Alex says. He feels warm, safe, like he’s in a cocoon far away from edges and uncertainty and the haze of unfamiliar familiarity.

“So a lot of this is just the shit I can’t say to him,” Jefferson says, as if from miles away.

“That’s where you need to be really careful,” Eliza agrees. “He takes it hard. The usuals are fine - at least, that’s what he told me. Just don’t get too creative, at least until he’s in a better place.”

“And are you staying for the show?”

Eliza looks at Alex.

“Staying?” Alex parrots, and he looks up at Eliza, all big eyes and hopeful smile.

“Oh, honey,” she says, and she laughs but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Look, I’m trying really hard to be okay with all this, but it’s too much for me.”

“Oh,” says Alex.

“But you text me when you’re done and I’ll come back and get you, okay?”

“Not staying?”

“Sorry, Alex, I can’t.” Eliza kisses his forehead. “Are you going to get started?”

“Ideally,” Jefferson says. “Whenever we can.”

“I’m going to take off, then. Alex, I love you. Be good, okay?”

“I don’t want you to go -”

Jefferson sits on the arm of the sofa beside Alex, and Eliza kneels in front of him. “You choose,” she tells him. “If you want to have sex with Thomas, I can’t be here. Or you can stay with me but then you don’t get to have sex with Thomas today. Which one do you want?”

He glances up at Jefferson, at the monolith of muscle towering to his left, and makes a soft noise. “Are you - will you be upset if I -”

“Whatever you choose, I won’t be upset,” Eliza promises.

His eyes don’t leave Jefferson as he tells her, “I want to stay here.”

“Okay.” She presses a kiss to the back of one of his hands and adds, “you take all the time you need, and I’ll come get you after. Be good. You listen to Thomas, okay?”

And then Jefferson’s fingers sink into his hair and tugs, and Alex breathes out and his heart explodes into a gallop, and he murmurs, “okay.”

Everything settles and the door clicks shut behind Eliza and then there’s just the cacophonous silence and the thunder of his heart. Jefferson strokes his fingers through Alex’s hair and says, “I have some rules.”

“Sir?”

“Remember your colours, Hamilton. What are they?”

“Green yellow red,” Alex breathes, in a hurry to get the words out.

“And if something feels bad, you say -”

“Red, sir -”

“What if it’s not bad but it’s not good?”

“Yellow -”

“Good. And if it’s green, I need to see that in your body, too, and if I don’t see it, I’m stopping. If you show even a little hint of not being into it. Do you understand?”

Alex risks a moment of eye contact and then drops his eyes to the place Jefferson’s thighs meet his body, at the hard urgent line there, and says, “yes, sir. I understand.”

“Do you understand that this is to keep you safe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then get on your knees, mutt.”

Alex glances up again, struggles to meet Jefferson’s eyes, and says, “with all due respect, get fucked. _Sir.”_

“I want to hit you, Hamilton -”

“Green.”

“Everywhere?”

Alex stops, considers, says, “yes,” but it feels like a lie, and Jefferson waits until he adds, “not my face. Green everywhere else.”

So Jefferson grabs the front of his shirt, yanks him off the couch, forces him to his knees on the floor and bends down to lay a sharp backhand across one of his thighs. “Watch your fucking mouth,” Jefferson snarls, “or I’ll gag you.”

“If you gag me where are you going to put your cock?”

“I’ll get creative,” Jefferson says, and then there are fingers under the hem of his shirt and the rasp of stubble against his ear, a soft voice breathing, “I want to undress you.”

“Green.”

The shirt slides off, the tip of a thumb brushes over his nipple, and Jefferson says, “look at you, actually being good for once -”

And of course Alex can’t take that, so he lunges and bites Jefferson’s arm, sinks his teeth into the muscle, and growls, “I’m _not_ good.”

Jefferson snarls at him and shoves him off. There’s fury in his eyes, tempered with something that looks like adoration, and Alex drinks it in, glutting himself on the way Jefferson tears him open with a single glance. The raw edges of the tear pulse and Alex holds eye contact, draws it out, drowning in Jefferson’s gaze. The broad pad of Jefferson’s thumb trails over his lower lip, slips into his mouth, and Alex obediently sucks at it. Jefferson purrs.

“I’ve missed that mouth,” he growls, and Alex makes a soft noise. “There’s so much you’re good for, Hamilton, but only one of your talents matters to me right now. What is it?”

Alex feels a peculiar ache at the compliment there. “My mouth,” he says, lisping a little. He runs his front teeth over the nail and drags his tongue up the length of it; he can taste salt and something else, something dark, maybe coffee? There’s a sharp pain as he starts to salivate.

“Good boy,” Jefferson says. “That’s all I care about. Your hot mouth and how sloppy you are with it. Show me how much you want my cock, Hamilton.”

“Please -”

“I said show, not tell. Show me.”

He huffs and whimpers, and Jefferson rubs himself through his pants, gripping just enough that Alex can see the vague outline of his cock, hard and ready. He wants it so badly, and it’s so close - he could just shuffle closer on his knees, unzip Jefferson’s fly with his teeth, suck the tip into his mouth -

He sucks hard on Jefferson’s thumb instead, clenching his fingers on his thighs. His chest shudders as he tries to remember how to breathe.

“Good boy,” Jefferson purrs, “look at you, so desperate to be sucking something - you don’t even care what it is - you don’t care if I’m touching you, you just want to swallow my cock, don’t you?”

Alex moans desperate assent.

“What if I stuff you first, Hamilton? I’ll fill you up and string you out and then fuck your mouth while you sob -”

“Please -”

“Bedroom,” says Jefferson. “Get the cuffs from my closet. Pick two paddles. I expect you to be naked, all four cuffs on, sitting on my bed, paddles in your lap, by the time I get in there. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jefferson pulls his thumb out of Alex’s mouth and tugs sharply on his bottom lip. “Good. Go.”

Alex moves fast. He scrambles to the bedroom, digs in the closet, finds the cuffs that clip onto the restraint system beneath Jefferson’s mattress, and then gets stuck staring at the paddles. There’s an absurd collection before him, hung along one wall of the walk-in closet.

They’re organized, Alex notices, in a way that doesn’t make any sense. The most logical way to hang them would be by how much they hurt when they land.

In the end, he finds himself drawn to the two he remembers most strongly - the one with studs, and the one with spikes.

By the time he leaves the closet, Jefferson is in the room. His presence is something Alex can’t quite describe; the room seems fuller, warmer, with Jefferson in it, and nothing but the hard muscle of that towering body seems to matter anymore.

Jefferson is naked and holding something in his hand. He raises his free hand and curls his fingers, beckoning, and Alex obeys, drifting to his side like he’s dreaming.

“Tell me what my instructions were,” Jefferson says, knotting his fingers in Alex’s hair.

“Cuffs,” Alex says. “Paddles. And then -”

“Are you naked?”

“No, sir -”

“Are you on my bed?”

“No, sir -”

“What am I going to do with you, Hamilton?” Jefferson’s voice is saccharine sweet and frighteningly soft. “What do you think happens when you don’t listen to me?”

“Jefferson -”

“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

Alex looks at him, scans his face, and calls his bluff. “Jefferson, I didn’t have time -”

Jefferson thrusts his fingers into Alex’s mouth and presses down on his tongue. “I told you to shut this,” he says. “See what happens when you don’t listen?”

Alex licks at the fingers on his tongue, makes a soft noise.

“I was going to be nice to you. Now I’m not.”

“Nnn,” Alex manages. He spits a strangled _green_ around the fingers.

“Good. Take off your pants. The more time you waste, the harder I’m going to be on you.” Jefferson pulls his fingers out, looks at them dripping with saliva, and wipes them disdainfully on Alex’s chest, tossing the package in his hand onto the floor by the bed.

Alex tucks the paddles under his arm, shucks his pants and boxers, and straps the leather cuffs on his wrists. He pauses a moment - Jefferson watches him, his expression inscrutable - and then bends over to strap the other two on his ankles, and that’s when he feels a hand on his ass, fingers slipping into the cleft. His arm goes limp and the paddles tumble to the floor.

“I want to touch you here,” Jefferson says.

“Green,” Alex breathes.

“I want to put my fingers inside you.”

“Green -”

“And,” Jefferson adds, and Alex can hear the wicked grin, “I want to stuff you. Plug you. It’s not going to be fun.”

“Please -”

“Colour?”

“Green,” Alex says, “green, holy shit, I need you to -”

Jefferson’s hand withdraws and Alex struggles to maintain his position. The strain in his legs is painful, bending over like this, but it isn’t long before the hand returns, one slicked finger stroking over his hole. It’s been so long that Alex flinches away a little, and Jefferson is quick to ask, “are you sure -”

“Jefferson, put your fucking fingers in me or I swear to God -”

A nasty slap lands on his ass and Alex stumbles, falls against the bed. His arm jerks away from his body and the paddles fall; the spikes barely miss his foot. “Watch your fucking mouth,” Jefferson snaps.

The memory of fingers pressing down on his tongue, of salt and something bitter (coffee?) makes Alex’s mouth water, and he murmurs, “yes, sir.”

The tip probes, pushes against the tight ring, and Alex makes a noise but Jefferson knows exactly what he’s doing - he doesn’t force it, just puts pressure on and lets the muscle take its time. His fingertip slides in slowly, and then a second presses through, and when he thrusts them back and forth, pushing in a little deeper each time, Alex drops his jaw and moans. It isn’t a stretch - it’s not like he’s been neglecting himself when he tosses off, not like he hasn’t been imagining Jefferson’s substantially larger fingers every time he touches himself - but it feels amazing. There’s such a stark contrast between your own fingers, or a toy, and the fingers of someone who wants to make you scream.

Jefferson twists his fingers, curls them against Alex’s prostate and rubs, and Alex sobs, his knees threatening to buckle.

“I need to change position,” he says.

“What, you can’t take -”

“I need to change position,” he repeats, more insistently this time. Jefferson withdraws his fingers, and the emptiness aches but Alex savours the way it feels to stand up and be steady on his feet.

“Get on the bed,” Jefferson tells him. “Face down. I’m going to stretch you.”

Alex throws himself on the bed, limbs spread, and Jefferson tightens the cuffs on his ankles, then his wrists. As he buckles the last one into place, he murmurs in Alex’s ear, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen the first time. It won’t happen again.”

“Jefferson -”

“What?”

Alex huffs gratefully and gently nuzzles against Jefferson’s face; Jefferson allows him a moment of contact before smacking the back of one thigh, hard, and muttering, “you little shit.”

There’s no venom in it, but it feels good. It’s safe.

Jefferson’s face doesn’t move away, but there’s that slick pressure at his hole again, and then two fingers are slipping back into him and he moans long and low. Jefferson’s other hand clips the cuffs on his wrists to the straps on the bed; he pulls gently, just to test the resistance, and Jefferson tightens them.

“Stay still,” he snaps.

Alex wriggles with the delicious knowledge that he’s been bad.

A third finger, then, pressing through, filling him. Alex groans and tries to push back against the hand, seeking more, but Jefferson pulls away and says, “the more you do that, the more I pull out.”

So he lays flat on the bed, his hard cock trapped between him and silky-soft bamboo sheets that are pristine white and absolutely not ready for his sweat and semen and blood. He knows he’s dribbling pre onto them, knows it’ll leave a slick track beneath him, but he doesn’t care, beyond knowing Jefferson will be punishing him for it.

Jefferson shifts and his fingers move in the tight ring of muscle and Alex cries out as he feels a strap connect to the cuff on one of his ankles. The cry draws out as Jefferson pushes another finger into him, and then a fourth.

The fingers slide out suddenly and Alex makes a soft whining noise, and then the final strap clips on and pulls tight and Jefferson is hissing in his ear, “are you ready to be stuffed?”

“Mmm -”

“Colour, Hamilton.”

“Green,” Alex gasps, “green, fuck -”

He can’t see Jefferson and that just makes it more intense when the slick rounded tip of something silicone presses against him. It doesn’t seem to end; Jefferson eases it in, waits for Alex to stretch enough to take it, and then bears down on it, and it sinks slowly, agonizingly, into place. It’s not the widest he’s ever taken but _God_ is it filling, and Alex thinks it can’t get any better -

And then the vibration hits, and it sweeps him away - there’s nothing behind his eyelids but bursts of light, and he can feel his throat working but he can’t hear his own moans over the thunder of his heart. His cheeks are wet, but he doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until Jefferson leans in close and murmurs, “easy, Hamilton, you’re safe. Colour?”

“Green -”

“Promise?”

Alex sobs, “Thomas, green, please,” and Jefferson huffs a little at the sound of his name falling broken from those dry lips.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?”

Alex groans, long and loud, and he doesn’t know if his whispered “green” is even loud enough to ghost over his tongue, drift past his lips, but the straps attached to his wrists are loosening and Jefferson is wriggling onto the bed, half under his chest - those long legs are stretched out either side of Hamilton’s ribs, bracing him up just enough that Alex can lean his head back and kiss the tip of his dripping cock.

“My beautiful little cocksucker,” Jefferson purrs, fisting a hand in Hamilton’s hair. “Get me off and I promise that you’ll be so bruised you’ll think of me every time you try to sit for at least two weeks. You want that?”

“Mm -”

“You want to swallow my cock, mutt? You do a good job and I’ll make sure you come so hard it’ll break your brain -”

“Please -”

“Suck,” Jefferson commands, and Alex wraps his lips around the head of Jefferson’s cock and suckles at it, savouring the slick salty tang of pre against his tongue. He runs the tip of his tongue against the slit, whining for more, and then bobs his head obediently. There’s a single moment where he tugs at the restraints, wishing he could wrap a hand around the shaft of Jefferson’s cock - it’s far too long for him to even dream of taking the whole thing in his mouth, and he hates to neglect even a fraction of that gorgeous thing - and then Jefferson is taking himself in his hand and jacking into Alex’s mouth, and all thoughts of anything but being a good cocksucker disappear.

He drifts that way, flicking his tongue against the frenulum, pulling off every so often to lick, sloppy, loose lips and broad tongue, up along the raphe, staying away from the tip just long enough for more pre to build up and then tonguing the slit to savour the taste. His mind is a pleasant blank, a grey hum, static, snow; thoughts flit through every so often, dark things, suspicions of his own worthlessness - but then Jefferson will moan, or his hand will speed up for a fraction of a second, and those thoughts flee as quickly as they came.

Jefferson is working himself hard and breathing heavily. His hand, long fingered, painfully elegant, moves in rapid, jerky movements, and every so often he hits his thumb or forefinger against Alex’s lips; before long they’re swelling from the sucking and the blows, and just when they’ve become almost unbearably sensitive, Jefferson makes a cracked noise and the taste of come washes over Alex’s tongue. Jefferson is nothing if not prolific and it’s almost too much to swallow, but Alex gulps it down as fast as he can. He notices his breathing is ragged and sharp, and then he realizes that Jefferson’s chest is shuddering with laboured, heavy gasping.

“Good boy,” Jefferson huffs. “So good, Hamilton.”

The hand in his hair yanks sharply and Alex makes a soft noise of contentment.

“You want to feel good?”

“Mm -”

“Want to come fast, or want me to fuck you up first?”

“Fuck me up,” Alex breathes, hoarse and wanting.

“I’m going to turn your vibrator up,” Jefferson says. “And then I’m going to beat you until your brain breaks, and once you’re begging, I’ll take my nasty vibe - you know the one -”

Alex makes a disbelieving noise - he knows the one, he knows how strong it is -

“And I’m going to put it against your dick -”

Another noise, and an involuntary jerk in his hips -

“And I’ll hold it there until you come for me. And I’ll keep holding it there, until you can’t take it anymore.”

The thought is horrific; it makes his mouth water with desire.

Jefferson extricates himself from beneath Alex’s chest, wipes the saliva off of his cock with Alex’s hair, and tightens the straps on his wrists. He fumbles for a moment out of Alex’s range of vision and suddenly the vibration in the plug amps up so high that fresh tears spring into his eyes and he chokes with the agony of it.

“Jefferson -”

“Too much? Give me a colour.”

He deliberates for a moment, and then grunts, “green.”

“Good. I’m going to hurt you.”

“Green -”

The first blow lands on the back of his left thigh, which makes his hips jerk, which makes his hole clench, which grinds the plug deeper into him, and all of a sudden it’s vibrating straight on his prostate and Alex weeps furiously, choking on the tears. They stream down his face and soak into the sheets as Jefferson lands the studded paddle again and again and again on his thighs; he overlaps the blows up and down until the entire back of his thigh is alight with the pain. Just as he’s about to beg Jefferson to move spots, the paddle leaves his left thigh and finds his right, and the first blow lands close to his knee. His hips jerk again and the plug grinds into that spot in him and the tears flow fresh again. Alex is hoarse with crying, throat raw with incoherent pleas.

“Take one more for me,” Jefferson says, rubbing the back of his right thigh with the metal studs. They’re cool and that should be soothing, but the friction, even of something so smooth, against his skin is agonizing.

“Yes,” Alex says, without hesitation.

Jefferson winds up with his whole arm and lands another blow just below where Alex’s leg meets his ass, and he yelps with the burning pain and hammers his hips forward. His cock drags against the bed as the plug angles into his prostate again.

“You did so good, mutt,” Jefferson says. “Ready for the second paddle?”

And that’s when Alex remembers the spiked paddle, and his entire body begins to quake with throaty barking sobs. They hurt as they burst from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Too much?” Jefferson leans close, kisses some of the tears from his cheeks, and Alex shakes his head.

“I want it. Please. Green. Promise.”

“I trust you,” Jefferson says, and Alex meets his eyes and echoes it:

“I trust you.”

Jefferson disappears again, but he doesn’t go far - Alex can feel him, smell him, close by. He can smell perspiration, likely sweat from such a rough paddling, and a sharp pain in his jaw hits as he starts to salivate again.

The spikes touch the raw backs of his thighs. “Last check,” Jefferson says.

“Green,” Alex chokes through the tears.

A moment of silence, a hiss of air, and then pain, white hot and electric, and Alex is soaring far away from his body.

He can feel each blow land and hear himself crying; he feels the pinpricks of spikes in his skin, the way they tug out, but there’s that static again, fuzzy and warm. He finds himself focusing on the thought of Jefferson’s gorgeous hands and the way they wield pain and pleasure like instruments, the long fingers that hurt perfectly any time they land. Alex’s heart aches with love, and he feels the spiked paddle slowly making its way from the curve just beneath his ass all the way down his left thigh, leaving a mosaic of pinprick wounds. There’s a drip down the side of his thigh that may be blood.

The paddle pauses, then the hiss of air sounds again and the spikes bury themselves in the top of his right thigh and work down again. Alex can hear whining; it takes him a couple of minutes to realize the whining is coming from his own throat. He sounds like an animal.

“So good,” Jefferson praises. “One more. You think you can take it for me, mutt?”

Alex starts to form the word “green” but his tongue is numb. Jefferson makes a soft noise that might be approval and lands the final blow, and just like that, everything snaps perfectly into place and Alex drifts from static into utter contentment. His bones are heavy and his mind is blessedly quiet, and all that matters is the urgent throbbing in his cock and the safe, warm feeling of being used by a man greater than himself.

“I’m going to reward you,” Jefferson says.

“Mmm,” Alex hums.

He feels Jefferson work a hand under his hip and angle it up a little, just enough to slip the Hitachi under him and put it against his cock. All of a sudden it’s on and Alex makes a disgruntled noise and jerks back, but Jefferson turns the vibe in his ass up too, and presses a palm flat against the base.

“Here’s how this works,” Jefferson says, as Alex squirms. “You can move your hips back, but that pushes the plug into you - and it hits your prostate when I push it, doesn’t it?” He punctuates the question by pushing against it just for a second, and the plug grinds against Alex’s prostate. “Or you can move your hips down into the wand, and it’s painful, isn’t it? So you’re fucked either way.”

“Please -”

“Please what?”

Alex pauses, and then grinds his hips in rapid, jerky movements. He frots against the Hitachi and pushes back against Jefferson’s hand, just a couple of moments of intense stimulation in either direction. This he can handle, he thinks. This is fine - a moment against, a moment away, and it hurts but it’s bearable -

Then Jefferson presses harder against the plug and it forces him to bear down against the wand, and there’s the vibration on his prostate and against the head of his cock, and Alex is squirming and weeping and begging, “Jefferson, fuck, it hurts, it’s too much, please don’t stop, please make me come, please make me come, please please please - please make me come?”

“Come, Alexander,” Thomas breathes, a soft, dangerous purr in his ear. His voice is dark and rough and the sound makes the hair on the back of Alex’s neck stand up. “I want you to come all over the sheets and then lay in it. I want to see your own come smeared across your stomach. Come, you piece of shit, desperate little slut, come for me.”

He’s halfway through his orgasm before he even realizes it, and then he’s moaning louder than he thought was possible, tears streaming from his eyes. Alex can feel the semen trapped between him and the sheets; there’s one last weak, halfhearted shot, and then he’s done, but Jefferson doesn’t turn off either of the vibrators.

“Jefferson -”

Alex grinds and then shifts his hips side to side, trying to escape. There’s pain; it’s unbearable to be pressed between the two vibrators with his cock and ass so sensitive -

“Take it as long as you can,” Jefferson says.

Alex shifts again, and then his hips are jerking, seeking some sort of relief, but it just builds. It’s agonizing and his cock spasms again, there’s a contraction but he can’t feel anything come out, and he breathes hard and fast and finally spits, “stop, Jefferson -”

The wand turns off first, and then the plug, and Jefferson pulls the wand out from beneath him and asks, “can I take this out of you?”

“Please -”

He feels the plug ease out, and then the straps on his ankles release. He’s moving before his wrists are free and Jefferson whispers, “easy, easy, Alex, just wait a moment -”

“Get me out, I need to be on my back -”

Jefferson lunges for the straps and unclips them as fast as he can, and then Alex rolls over and Jefferson is on him, smoothing the hair away from his eyes and wiping the sweat and tears from his skin.

“You did so, so well for me, Alex,” Jefferson says.

Alex looks at him like he’s never seen Jefferson before. He drowns for a solid minute in the deep brown of his eyes, and then moves his attention to the full brows, the angles of his cheekbones and jaw, the immaculately styled beard, the little hollows at his temples. He raises his hands and buries them in Jefferson’s hair and says, “cuddle me.”

“Is there a reason you’re petting me?” Jefferson protests, as Alex gently scratches at his scalp.

“I like it -”

“Give me a reason, Hamilton.”

“Even you have soft places,” Alex murmurs reverently. “I need to remember that there’s softness underneath everything else.”

Jefferson looks at him hard, his expression inscrutable, and then whispers, “can I kiss you?”

“Like -”

“Here,” Jefferson says, placing the pad of his thumb on Alex’s bottom lip.

“Yes,” Alex says, and then Jefferson is kissing him. It’s not hard; it’s not a show of possession - it’s just something sweet and kind and gentle, something loving, something to keep for when the bad thoughts come back.

Alex drifts back into the static as Jefferson gently bathes the backs of his thighs, and when he comes back to himself he’s curled against Jefferson’s side and Eliza is there -

“I texted her,” Jefferson says, in response to Alex’s startled noise. “Welcome back. You were really deep for a while there.”

“Hey,” Eliza whispers. “Did you have fun?”

“My thighs hurt,” Alex says, and he grins, broad and beautiful and dazzling. “Listen -”

Eliza kisses his temple, and Alex looks at Thomas and says, “you know, I don’t really hate you -”

“Shut up,” Jefferson says. Eliza makes a disapproving noise in her throat. “No,” Jefferson hurries to add, “I don’t mean like that - I know what you’re saying, Alex. I - me too.”

It’s not an _I love you,_ it’s not perfect - but it’s close enough, and Alex fades into the space between them, Jefferson cradling him, Eliza combing out the tangles in his hair.

It’s not perfect, but he has them both, and that’s more than he deserves -

No, it’s not. It’s exactly what he deserves.

He looks at Eliza’s smile, like sunshine filtered through new leaves in the first days of spring, at Jefferson’s carefully constructed disenchanted smirk, and wriggles into the space between them, full of gratitude, full of light.

**Author's Note:**

> that completes bold and young! i hope you enjoyed the horrible nonsense.
> 
> comments and kudos hydrate me (seriously i am so dehydrated please help me). chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com)


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